


Lead-Up

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: “I’m not watching him,” says Furuhashi. “He’s just sometimes in the direction I’m looking.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> for monmon <3
> 
> i'm so glad you wanted to do this trade! i really enjoy writing the kiridai kids & i hope you enjoy it!

The staggered rustle of paper on paper as everyone flips their math workbook open is irritating. It’s one of the many stupid things about having to sit in class, and for probably not the first time that day Furuhashi wishes he were somewhere else. It’s the time of day when time s crawling and he just wants to go to lunch, when the gum in his mouth has long since lost its flavor and gone from soft to rubbery to where it’s almost falling apart against his tongue. He turns his head; two seats away Hanamiya is furiously jotting down numbers. It’s cute how his bottom lip is tucked up like he’s just barely biting it, the motions of his pencil hard and fast against the page. He’ll be done with all the exercises by the time the teacher starts going over the first one, of course. Furuhashi will do none of them unless he’s told to come up to the board (and even then he’d really rather not); it’s not like they get graded on these and he’s not quite so at a loss as to what to do that he’s going to start doing math problems (although Yamazaki clearly is).

Between Furuhashi and Hanamiya, Matsumoto is asleep, math book still closed, drooling on the desk. Imagining what could make a usually-fairly-alert guy like him comatose at half after eleven is enough of a diversion for half a minute, but not much more than that (there’s still enough time for Furuhashi to hope the teacher picks on Matsumoto for falling asleep and then focuses his attention on a different part of the room). The gum really is coming apart in Furuhashi’s mouth now; he spits it into his palm. Matsumoto being asleep is also an excellent opportunity to stick gum under his desk with no way for Matsumoto to prove it’s him. Furuhashi leans over and extends his hand.

Hanamiya’s done with the math already, spinning his pencil in his hands and staring straight ahead, slouching over on his desk. He’s probably more bored than Furuhashi (Furuhashi’s often wondered what it’s like to be Hanamiya, so smart and so easily bored with even the most complex of things) and either way he still looks cute, hair falling into his eyes and lip released from his teeth, in full pout—

“Furuhashi-kun, is that gum?”

Fuck.

“No, Sensei, it’s not.”

Furuhashi retracts his hand and closes it around the gum; Matsumoto jolts awake but the teacher doesn’t even seem to notice him.

“Really, Furuhashi.”

“I was picking up my pencil. See?”

Furuhashi raises his other hand.

The teacher sighs. Matsumoto shoots Furuhashi a dirty look, and Furuhashi ignores it (Matsumoto can’t rat him out; he hadn’t even been awake).

“Matsumoto! Come to the board and show us Exercise Two.”

“Uh…what page were we on?”

The teacher looks like he’s about to throttle Matsumoto (better him than Furuhashi). Furuhashi looks back at Hanamiya, but Hanamiya’s not even looking at him (he’s looking the other way, beyond the other students and out the window). While the teacher looks at Matsumoto writing on the board, Furuhashi sticks the gum under Matsumoto’s desk anyway.

* * *

Hanamiya always says he does basketball just to beat those guys, the other Uncrowned Kings and their ilk, to show them there’s another way, but Furuhashi’s not sure if he’s even fooling himself when he says that. If he’d meant it he wouldn’t have become the coach and he wouldn’t hold special meetings to discuss defensive strategy (well, maybe he would, because half of the “meeting” consists of yelling at Seto to stay awake). If he’d really meant it, he wouldn’t stay after practice when he’s done yelling at everyone so he could work on his shot again and again, and he wouldn’t focus on making it so damn beautiful. He can already score at will; he can already team up with Seto to get the ball anywhere and block the hell out of the passing lanes. He doesn’t need to but he does it anyway, and Furuhashi can’t stop looking.

“Ooh, Furuhashi…”

Hara’s already changed back into his school uniform, tie dangling untied around his neck.

“What?” says Furuhashi.

“Looking at Hanamiya again, huh?”

“I just had a question about the schedule. I was going to wait to ask him.”

Hara snorts. “Please. You’re lucky he’s so fucking oblivious; you’re always ogling him with those fish-eyes. It’s kind of creepy, you know?”

“I’m not watching him,” says Furuhashi. “He’s just sometimes in the direction I’m looking.”

“There’s no one else in the gym,” says Hara. “Except me, of course.”

“Who wants to look at your ugly face?” says Furuhashi.

“Ugly? Damn, you wound me.”

“Shut up!” yells Makoto. “I’m practicing! Do you want a basketball to the head?”

Furuhashi shuts up.

“Well,” says Hara, just a little more quietly. “I’ll leave you to act out your lovey-dovey fantasies. But don’t do it in the locker room; you’ll get athlete’s—”

As he gets up, Furuhashi sticks out his leg and Hara nearly trips, stopping his voice mid-sentence to try and steady himself. He still ends up walking out whistling, hands in his pockets. The basketball does not come flying at either one of them.

* * *

Furuhashi does not, in fact, ask Hanamiya about the schedule. He just forgets, okay? He’s still getting changed in the locker room when Hanamiya finally finishes practice, still sweaty and flushed and already taking off his soaked practice shirt.

“Oh, you’re still here,” he says, but not in the same way that like, Hara or Yamazaki would say it (Furuhashi would like to believe there’s a touch more familiarity in that way only Hanamiya brings).

Furuhashi’s still putting on his shoes when Hanamiya gets out (he has to do the laces just right).

“Do you want to walk home together?” Furuhashi says.

“Sure,” says Hanamiya.

It’s cold; Hanamiya’s hands are stuffed deep into his pockets and Furuhashi wishes he’d worn a scarf so he could offer it to Hanamiya (even though Hanamiya has stated, without prompt, that he is not cold right now). But if he can’t do that, he kind of wants to kiss Hanamiya (more than he usually does, which is always at least a little bit). There’s no one around; Hanamiya’s face looks cold; they’re already walking home together.

“Hey, Hanamiya.”

“What?”

Furuhashi ducks down and kisses him. Hanamiya’s lips are cold; he’s not kissing back—shit, this was a bad idea. Furuhashi doesn’t pull away, though; if this is the only kiss he gets with Hanamiya he’s going to enjoy it. Finally, though, he runs out of breath and breaks the kiss. Hanamiya’s staring at him in what might be shock? Anger? Annoyance?

“Koujirou,” says Hanamiya.

Is he blushing or is that the cold? And then a grin spreads across his face like a crack on a frozen pond.

“Dumbass. As if I’d act like some kind of shoujo heroine. I was just waiting for you to make a move.”

Furuhashi blinks. He was? His eyes are shifty and his face is getting redder by the second (so definitely a blush). He’s lying, pretending like he had, but he’d probably been just as unsure as Furuhashi, and that’s pretty cute.

“What?” says Hanamiya.

“Nothing,” says Furuhashi.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” says Hanamiya.

It’s not too hard a request to comply with.


End file.
